The Question The Death of Vic Sage Part One
by Charlie Wilkins
Summary: Set in the DC2 Universe, The Question have been retired for four years... Questions that need answering begin here, and the only way to find the answers are to begin a journey with Vic Sage that could have deadly consequences...


_**Prologue: Who is The Question?**_

The supermen and the superwomen stand by a grave. In the shadows of this cemetery stands a man clad in grey and black, a cape flowing over his shoulders, a stern look across his face. As rain starts to pour down from the sky, a crack of lightning illuminates the dark graveyard, and the man in black can see someone approaching slowly, deliberately. He shakes his head slowly, and then looks up to his peer, the blue, red, yellow suited Superman. "They're leaving." His tone is light, but he knows that any one of his comrades who hears it… They listen. Apart from the man standing next to him right now. "Bruce. Do you hear me?"

Batman spins around, and gets up close to his super powered companion. "Clark… Of _course_ I hear you. You're standing right THERE." He turns and looks back at the grave, shakes his head, and then looks back at Superman. "Now I want you to do something for me, Kal. Look beyond the grave. What do you see?" Superman looks confused and shakes his head, looking at his bat themed comrade.

"What do you mean?" He rubs the side of his head, and looks at the unmarked gravestone. "Bruce. I need to know… Who is The Question?"

_My name is The Question. And I want answers._

_You see me, faceless, surrounded by that perpetual mist, and you ask: "What drives this man? What makes this man do what he does?" Truth is, I don't know. My name is Vic Sage, television personality, and borderline schizophrenic._

_My name is The Question. And I want answers._

_I wander the streets, take in the sights, and I wonder… What awaits me? What terrors and horrors await me in the darkest recesses of the human mind? I've seen it all, and you can excuse me for being a little crazy. Like I said: -_

_My name is The Question. And I want answers._

_But the answer isn't all I'm after, for what is an answer without the question? I don't hold all the cards, and even if I did, I hold them close, close to my chest, not letting anyone see, let alone me. I've seen it all. Murderers, rapists, kidnappers and paedophiles. I've seen it all and I've watched, rarely acting. That's not my job. My job is to observe. To look for the answers._

_My name is Vic Sage, and you're killing me._

_Yeah, you. You and all your kind, always watching, judging. Like me. You observe. Don't think I can't see you through my featureless face and gaunt body. You can't see my eyes but I can see yours. You take it upon yourselves to rule your domains. I wish I could rule mine, but impossible. I'm haunted. Dying._

_My name is The Question. And I want answers._

_I tip the peak of my hat, cover my face, wrap myself in my coat and walk. I hear everything, the city speaking only to me. It tells me things, tells me things no one wants to know. It would drive you crazy, the constant chatter, and I'm surprised it hasn't done me in already. Any way… I watch. I listen. And I judge them. If they see me they don't show it._

_I want answers. But I need The Question._

_Like I was saying, I've seen it all. I've seen the puzzle that is humanity. Some pieces don't fit. Some do. That's life. That's how you live it. You feel pulled down, dragged under. Everyone has it at one time. Some times it takes a toll. The loving husband, and argument too many, snaps, kills his true love. That is life, my friends. That is life._

_My name is Vic Sage. But I don't even know if that's true anymore…_

_I've seen wondrous sights. I've seen the highest star in the sky, the lowest recesses of the city below. Everything and nothing, all through my featureless face. You wonder why I cover my face? To hide the tears. This is too much for any man to bear. The burden so heavy, but I take it. I take it and don't complain. At least you won't ever see me complain. That's my rule. My aim._

_My name is The Question. And I want answers._

_I wander the streets, take in the sights, and I wonder… What awaits me? What terrors and horrors await me in the darkest recesses of the human mind? I've seen it all, so you can excuse me for being a little crazy…_

Who is The Question?

_**Chapter One: Duality on the edge of the double-sided sword.**_

_The After: -_

Gun shots. I stumble back, a bloody taste in my mouth, and grab for whatever's closest, which seems to be nothing… I fall to the ground, and hit the wooden floor with a thud. I drift into darkness, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below the pier filling my ears. My head aches, and I can feel blood pouring across my eyes.

Is this the end?

"Victor!" The man. The assassin. His gun arm drawn, aimed at my head, me, powerless, weak. "We grow tired of your attention. So my employers, they hire me, yes?"

I hear him cock the weapon with a thought. His mechanical implants buzzing and whirring. A laser sight from his eye drifts over my face, and he smiles.

"So goodbye from my friends... My employers… Goodbye from Intergang!" I cough up more blood, and look over at my assassin. He smiles and I hear the whirring of cogs in his head.

"Bastard… Aren't you g-going to let m-me have my l-last w-words?"

"Hhh. Go on then." He moves the gun away from my head. I breathe a sigh of relief but find myself choking on my own blood.

"C-come closer." He does so, trusting in the fact that he's already broken both my wrists. He leans over me, my bloody lips whispering to him. "You… Do realise that this disused pier is condemned? Do you think it not a stupid coincidence that I lured you here for our confrontation?" I smile. The wooden panels creak loudly. "Do you not hear that noise?" His dark grin turns to a look of fear. The first manifestation of fear I have seen on his scarred face. I reach to my belt with broken fingers, and fumble with a button on my buckle. Green gas shoots up, surprising him, causing him to jump up and then down again, causing the rotten wood to shatter completely, sending us both down into the rocks and water below. He screams from the soul, his cybernetic implants going into overdrive, and crunching as he connects with the rocks below.

I'm luckier, if you could call it that. As I plunge into the depths, and as my breath rushes out of me, I smile. I'm ended.

_The Before: -_

Vic Sage! Who is he? What is he? Truth be told, Victor Sage is a hard-hitting TV newscaster for World Wide Broadcasting Company! But when needs must, he takes on a different identity… Alias THE QUESTION!

**ques·tion** (kwschn)  
_n._

An expression of inquiry that invites or calls for a reply.

An interrogative sentence, phrase, or gesture.

A subject or point open to controversy; an issue.

A difficult matter; a problem: _a question of ethics._

A point or subject under discussion or consideration.

A proposition brought up for consideration by an assembly.

The act of bringing a proposal to vote.

Uncertainty; doubt: '_There is no question about the validity of the enterprise_'

Vic Sage! A razor sharp mind, fists like lightning, and more handsome than any movie star!

Vic Sage! An alias… Not truly real… In truth, he is actually Charles Victor Szasz, and slightly unhinged at the fact….

Childhood abuse, at the hands of his Catholic guardians… It twisted him inside. He created a new identity for himself, that of suave Vic Sage, and he fit so well into that identity, he forgot his former, and never looked back!

_His face darkens, the light dims. His hand shakes slightly but he doesn't care. He grits his teeth, smiles, and begins something his, something new. The cameras are on him, he can't be any less than fabulous…_

"Vic Sage here, reporting for our own Hub City's World Wide Broadcasting Company. I'm here to talk to you about illegal gambling. How many of you willingly support illegal gambling operations? How many of you frequent the gambling tables or play the daily lottery that are set up?" He shifts his sleeves, sliding into more comfortable state of mind. "You don't need their kind… They need you!" he slams his fist hard against his desk. "Only **you** can keep them in business! They can't exist without your play!" He smiles arrogantly at the camera in front of him. ""Part of the responsibility lies with you! You are willing partners in their crimes! You should be held accountable for your assistance in these dreadful crimes. You complain about being screwed over, being taken for a ride, but you set yourselves up for these falls. Learn from mistakes. Or they will come back and haunt you."

"Haunt you."

"Haunt you."

_Haunt you._

_The station suffers poorer ratings every time he goes on air. Death threats directed at Sage. He doesn't care… Almost as if… He's not afraid. Fearless. Or what the other employees truly suspect… Insane._

_Victor Sage is insane._

_**Chapter Two: Soul Crushing Numb Feelings!**_

_Before: -_

"Intergang? You want to do an expose on INTERGANG!" Syd Starr shakes his head, and looks at his sister, a bead of sweat falling down his brow. "Are you insane, Sage? Oh wait…" He laughs to himself, highly amused by his joke. "Dad will sort this."

"Yeah, Viccy… This sounds a bit O. T. T. If you get me…" Celia Starr smiles wide, and then giggles softly. "But you do whatever you want."

"Syd…Celia…" Sam Starr, president and founder of W.W.B enters the office, puffing on a chunky cigar, smiling glumly. "Get out my office… And son… Put back my cigars." Syd looks around slowly, and slips three cigars back on the desk.

He slides over to his father, his tone slimy and manipulative "Dad… Sage wants to…" Sam throws his hand up to signal silence.

"Didn't you here me? Get out of here! I'm having a meeting with my best reporter."

Syd shakes his head and grumbles beneath his breath, then exits the office, slamming the door behind him. "Now talk Vic. Tell me what you've got…"

Vic Sage puts his hand through his red hair and rearranges his collar. "I have information on… Steel Hand." Sam is silent at this news.

"The Steel Hand? The most ruthless crime lord on this side of the country? Second only to the leader of Intergang? God, Vic… You better be able to deliver the goods on this…" He takes out two cigars from his inside pocket an offers one to Vic. "If you get the story, I'll let you run with it. But you've got to let me tell my contact in the HCPD… If anyone in Intergang gets wind of this… You're dead…" Vic takes the cigar and shakes his head slowly. "We're all dead…"

"Sir… With all due respect, no. I can keep this quiet. I've been working on this for the past eighteen months without anyone finding out… I have the full story…" Sam gasps for a moment, and the nods his head.

"Damn it, Vic! I respect _you_, so I'll respect your wishes… But try to be safe."

"Always." Vic shakes Sam's hand and leaves the office, waving goodbye to his fellow reporters before leaving the office, determined.

"_You wanted to speak to us, Starr?" The man in the shadows smiles slightly, a glint of metal reflecting off his fist. "You have information?"_

"_I do indeed… Victor Sage, the upstart reporter… He's doing some kind of expose on your activities…And Intergang…" Starr smiles slightly, Steel Hand nodding at the information. _

"_You have been very helpful Starr." Steel Hand nods, rubbing the edge of his glasses slowly. "Come here." Starr rises from the seat, and goes over to the crime lord, who clenches his metallic fist with an almighty crunch. "Now Starr… You better not be lying to me…" He moves his hand with lightning speed, and grabs Celia Starr's wrist. "I don't like liars…"_

"_I know! I know! You've said…" She pulls herself away, only able to because Steel Hand released her arm. She winces in pain and rubs it. "You've said before…" _

_He laughs loudly. "You're an intelligent woman, Celia… Playing the fool, playing the dolt and the idiot… But I know the true you. You're intelligent… But not intelligent enough to be careful with a certain politician who-shall-not-be-named…" He smiles slightly, motioning to photos on the wall behind him._

"_It was love, you bastard!" She holds herself back, remembering where she is, and acting accordingly. _

"_Language deary. Remember who I am." He looks around slowly. "Anyway, he was married you stupid bitch!" He shakes his head. "Intelligent enough to know that, surely…"_

"_We didn't care." _

"_His wife did."_

"_What?"_

"Did you hear? Did you hear? The governor… He was having an affair!" Syd bursts out laughing, throwing the Daily News to the desk, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Celia! Isn't this the guy you used to pine for?" He shows the front page to his little sister, who blushes slightly. "You can't see the girls face… But she's steaming! Some hooker they say… Damn." He winks at his sister and nudges her side, but she slaps his elbow away and storms out the office. "What's her problem?"

"Probably you, Syd." Vic Sage nods slowly and smiles at the snide son of his boss.

"Vic, you're insane, talking to me like that…" Syd raises his fist and shakes it threateningly. Vic smiles.

"Insanity is part of my individual charm. Now move. Or are you going to use that?" He motions to the shaking fist of Syd Starr, who snaps at that exact moment, lunging at the reporter. Vic smoothly glides to the side of his attacker and pulls Syd's wrist up, near breaking it. "Syd. Don't ever try and touch me. I'll let you off this time…" He strengthens his grip, causing Syd to yelp out, and then moves closer to his ear. "… Don't risk it." He releases all of a sudden and rearranges his tie. "Get off the floor, Starr."

"Hhff." Syd shakes his head and goes to complain to his father in his office, but hesitates, and leaves the building in a huff.

"Sir?" Vic slowly enters the room, silence meeting him. His gaze floats across the empty office, until it meets with Sam Starr, who sits quietly in his large black chair. "Are you alright sir?"

"The sponsors rang. Told me to tell you… to scrap the story… Steel Hand has an iron grip on this city, and all the dirt on all the officials. Including me…" Sam wearily sighs, and takes a long drag on an old cigar. Little specks of ash go everywhere, and he coughs quietly.

"What do you mean then, sir?" Sam looks up and laughs slightly, then rummages through his draws, grabbing a handful of photos, and scatters them across the desk.

"Celia. With Governor Hesh. I mean… Come on… Hesh of all people…"

"I always thought Hesh was quite the looker."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. He had an affair with Celia then? Damn." Vic stands up abruptly. "I'll check all this out."

"Where are you going now?"

"To see Tot." Vic smiles slightly, looking away from Starr.

Sam sits up, and looks confused. "Who?"

"You don't know him. I'll be back." Vic hurries out of the office, and gets out of the building as fast as he can, hailing a cab and heading for the waterfront.

_**Chapter Three: Pseudonyms. **_

Professor Rodor has always been a close friend to Vic Sage, ever since… The incident… No. Wait. Since before, since college, where the young cocky lad that no one ever knew appeared from the masses of students, excelled in any and all classes, and then proceeded to become the most powerful reporter on TV today.

But right now, we pull back the curtain of the past further, back to an age of innocence, but not for one Charles Victor Szasz…

"_The hole for him! The hole for the disrespectful little snot!" Sister Clarice grabs the young red haired boy by the arm, and throws him at the wall in rage. "How dare you disrespect our Lord and Saviour! HOW DARE YOU!"_

"_If he's so great, why did he let my mum leave me? Can you answer that?"_

"_Because she was a whore! And you are a whore child, so to the hole with you!" Mother Graham grabs the small boy by the hair, and pushes him into the dark closet, and slams the door on him. "Alone! Alone with your demons…"_

_This was the first time Vic Sage emerged from Charles Szasz mind, and the first time his mind fractured. _

_It wouldn't be the last._

_Days later, the closet door is slowly opened, and Mother Graham smiles heartedly. "How do you feel now child?" With that, he spits in her face, and runs behind her, kicking her swiftly in the backside, and slamming the door on her, locking it behind him._

_Charles Victor Szasz leaves the orphanage at fifteen, and doesn't return for another fourteen years._

Rodor smiles as he answers his door. Vic Sage stands there with a serious look on his face, his eyes deep, his mind elsewhere. "Come in Charlie, come in…"

Vic comes out of his daze and looks up. "Hmm? It's Victor now…" He smiles. "But you know that, 'cause we have this conversation every time we meet."

"The rituals of civilization. We each of us evolve our own rites of reassurance…"

Vic's face goes blank for a moment, and then he smiles. "I don't recognise the quote. Who said it, Spinoza? Buber?"

Rodor grins broadly. "The author of the sentiment is your humble servant, Aristotle Rodor. Pee aitch dee." He bows elegantly, smiling still. "At your service."

_Professor A. Rodor, one of the greatest living brains on Earth. He could have been the next Einstein, the next… Heck, I don't know anymore famous scientists, but he was great, yet he stuck at the university I attended, taught the next generation, and created something that could have made the map. He created pseudoderm, a second skin that could have been used as a cheap and efficient way of bandaging wounds and helping with the healing process. But after some tampering by a Dr. Twain, that all changed._

_Pseudoderm was intended to work as an applied skin-like bandage with the help of a bonding gas, but had an unforseen toxicity (created when Twain, like an idiot, messed up the formula) which was fatal when applied to open wounds… So the entire experiment failed, and the two doctors parted ways._

_Rodor is as much The Question as I ever was. But things change. People move on._

"I need help…"

Rodor's face lights up. "You need The Question!"

"I suppose so, yes. The Question can get jobs done which I could never… Even imagine… As Vic Sage."

Rodor shakes his finger. "Or Charlie Szasz…"

Vic shakes his head slowly. "He's not here anymore sir."

"Says you. I have your belt. I have the gas."

"Thank you Tot."

"Whatever happened to us, Charlie? You aren't the same man after…"

"No. Never _speak _of that day. Please sir, never…" Vic's hand shakes slightly, and he clenches his fist, and then presses the bridge of his nose, anxious. "I've got to go. Sir. I've always respected you. You're like a father to me…"

"And you're like a son, Charles…" The two men embrace, and Vic wipes away a tear. He looks back at his mentor, and sees only death.

_Hub City. I hate the Hub. City of darkness and corruption. _

_A hell of a city…_

_A city of hell…_

_Intergang runs this city. Pumps its veins full of drugs, send disease rampaging through its body. Coke. Prostitutes. All on its streets._

_My name is Vic Sage. And I want answers._

_But the answer isn't all I'm after, for what is an answer without The Question? I don't hold all the cards, and even if I did, I hold them close, close to my chest, not letting anyone see, let alone me. I've seen it all. Murderers, rapists, kidnappers and paedophiles. I've seen it all and I've watched, rarely acting. That's not my job. My job is to observe. To look for the answers._

_But Hub… It doesn't hold any of the answers… And I won't be able to find any with this face…_

_I look down at my belt, the thin black belt that I thought lost in the catacombs of history. _

_I look at the belt._

_I look up at the street I'm in and see the shops. I stumble across to a closed clothes shop and look at the mannequin in the window. _

_It's blank face stares out across the street, sees everything pass by, everyday, every month, every year… I smash the glass and clamber in, grabbing some new clothes. _

_A trench coat, a black shirt and tie. Some nice pants. _

_What every man needs._

_But am I everyman?_

_Perfect. I put it all on, and then attach my small thin belt._

_The button is there, same as always, and I know, in my hearts of hearts, this is what I have to do. I press the button, and am consumed in the gas. A small pink block falls out of the buckle and I proceed to put it on my face, and at last, once again, I feel whole._

_My name is The Question. And I want answers._

_I wander the streets, take in the sights, and I wonder… What awaits me? What terrors and horrors await me in the darkest recesses of the human mind? I've seen it all, so you can excuse me for being a little crazy…_

_I'm freaking back. And Intergang has hell to pay._

_**Chapter Four: Big Trouble, Little Hub**_

"You sent the photos to the media! Damn you Hand! Damn you!" Celia slams her fists against his chest again and again, and screams in his face, but he just stands there and takes it. About three minutes worth of chest punching later he grabs her face.

Then pulls.

As blood sprays everywhere, her screams fall silent, and then she lies on the floor, bleeding everywhere. "Eurgh. Gratuitous." He laughs to himself. "STUKA! Get in here with a mop and bucket!"

"Yessir, Steel Hand sir."

_The streets call to me._

_They know I have returned._

_The Question is back._

_And I've damned myself._

Dr Twain was a liar and a cheat. He took the corrupted formula to the corporations; the Intergangs, the crime organisations, and they planned to send it to Africa, Vietnam, wherever it could be used. Rodor discovered the plot, and confronted his old associate, but was told he would be liable too, for creating the Pseudoderm and allowing the formula to be used!

Rodor did the only thing he could.

He called in the press.

Vic Sage came to the aid of his troubled teacher, and planned to write a scatthing expose on the corruption that was at hand, but his apartment was firebombed by a masked criminal, and every piece of evidence and writing was lost.

Rodor had a plan. He had continued to refine the formula, made it so it wasn't toxic, yet Twain had patented it, it was legally is, so he made a mask which disguised his features, and planned on using it to destroy all of Twains illegal work!

Vic stole the mask, defeated Twain, and burned the entire warehouse where it was all being stored down.

With Twain inside.

This was the second time Charles Victor Szasz mind fractured.

_It wouldn't be the last._

Rodor thanked Sage for doing this favour for him, and Vic revealed that as this masked avenger, this faceless foe of injustice, he was free. Free from responcibility, free from the moral boundaries placed there by authority…

Rodor understood this, and The Question was born.

_Vic knows where Steel Hand, head of the Hub branch of Intergang, works. The Ditko lounge, strip bar and club where thirty of Intergangs… 'finest' spend their illegally gained dollars. He has an office in the back, quite large, formely of Biggie Biggs, the fomer leader of this branch of the 'company'._

_Vic can't strike here yet. _

Time passes, and he stands in the shadows, breathing quietly, waiting patiently. People leave, people arrive, but bar slowly emptys. About one o'clock, when most of the patrons have left, and the women are dancing their last dance, he walks in, his fedora tipped over his featureless face, and he sits at the bar. A young women wearing some kind of spandex costume reminiscent of Wonder Woman's star spangled armour strolls over to him and smiles. "Last orders, mister. What'll it be?"

Vic grimaces beneath his mask. "A Steel Hand."

"A what, mister? I don't know what that is…" She smiles broadly, and bites her lip, innocently, her small hand slowly moving down her chest, her innocent smile widening. "Do you want something special?"

Vic shakes his head. "No." She frowns, confused at this difficult customer. She squats slightly, trying to see underneath his fedora. "Can I help _you_ at all?"

"What do you mean, mister?" She stands up abruptly, smiling again.

"Get out of here, right now. People are going to get into some deep shit."

"Oh yeah, who are you, _The Martian Manhunter_? Predicting the future like that…" Her eyes light up, and she leans in close, whispering. "You aren't are you?"

"No. And the Manhunter doesn't predict the future. He reads minds."

She flicks a lock of her hair back casually. "Whatever. I'm gonna' have to ask you to leave."

Vic clenches his fist in anger, and looks up slightly at the woman. "Not before I get Steel Hand. You aren't gonna' move me."

She slams her fist on the bar, and starts shouting. "**We don't sell Steel Hands!**" Everyone turns and faces the bar, and she looks up angrily. "We got ourselves a problem, people…" Vic smiles, and a large man, his frame and body shape reminiscent of an ape, strolls over.

"Is you causing some problem, mista?"

"Causing a problem?" Vic stands up suddenly, causing the man to jerk back. "I _am_ the problem!" Vic grabs the big man's face and slams it into the bar, then hits him over his neck, knocking him unconscious. "I'm The **goddam** Question, and I want some **goddam** answers!"

"It's a cape!" Five people draw their guns, and the dancers dive off their podiums, hiding behind the chairs. "Ice the freak!" They all fire, but The Question is behind the bar, kneeling next to the women who served him before anyone can even get a shot off.

"I **told** you there was going to be some trouble."

"Y-You've got no face, you freak!"

"Now that's not nice." He grabs a bottle of vodka and an old rag, grinning broadly behind his mask.

"What you gonna' do, drink it? You ain't even got a face! Let alone a mouth…"

"Drink? I'm going to spill it. All over there." He opens the lid, stuffs the rag inside and shakes, then takes out a lighter from his pocket and pauses. "I'm really glad I started smoking again, _miss_." He lights it up and looks over the top of the bar, hurling it at the gangsters who are still firing. "I'm sorry for the problem, _miss_." The glass shatters, and the flames shoot up, scattering the criminals, and making them run for the door, leaving the door to Steel Hand clear.

"Oh… Don't worry." She smiles. "It's a temporary thing."

"They'll all say that. Every last one of them." He shakes his head. "Get out of here. Right now. Please."

"Hmm. All right. If you say so." She clambers out the side of the bar, and runs out of the door, blowing Vic a kiss as she goes.

"Kids today…"

"Stuka! What the holy hell is going on?" Steel Hand grabs his hand cannon, and ducks beneath his desk.

"It's a cape sir! A freaking cape! He just threw a Molotov at the men, we're stuck! Alone!" Stuka grabs a shotgun, and pushes over a cabinet, hiding behind it.

"Damn. This is all going to hell. Where'd you put Starr's body?"

"She's in the back room, ready for transport."

"STUKA YOU SHMUCK! I TOLD YOU TO TAKE HER, AND DUMP HER IN A HOLE SOMEWHERE! GOD **DAMN** STUKA! YOU INEPT FOOL!" Steel Hand shoots his assistant in the head, and ducks back by his desk. "Good help is so hard to find…"

"So I've heard, Steel Hand." Vic stands in the doorway, his body wrapped in shadow.

"ARGHHHH!" Steel Hand stands up and fires his gun at the figure, hitting him dead centre in the chest about five times. Vic stumbles back, hits the wall behind him, and slides down. "TEACH YOU! I'M THE GODDAMN BOSS! YOU'RE A SHMUCK! A LOSER! YOU'RE DEAD, MAN, DEAD!" Hand ducks back behind his desk and reloads, laughing to himself. "Dead… Dead… He's dead…" He stands up, points his gun at Vic's corpse and… "Wait… Shit! Holy mother of God!"

Nothing.

The Question is gone, but a bulletproof vest with five chunks taken out of it is left, causing Hand to feel a warm trickle move down his leg.

"Oh no! NO!" Steel Hand runs out into the corridor and is met with a steel tray to the head, knocking him out instantly. "You're the shmuck Hand. Thank your guy at the door for the vest." Vic grabs some handcuffs from his pocket and chains Steel Hand to a radiator, having to connect his elbow with his wrist, the metallic fist being too big for the restraints. Vic grimaces slightly, and feels his side, being met by a warm red feeling trickling down to his hip. "Hrh. Time to do some investigative journalism." He hurries into Hand's office, and rummages through the fallen file cabinet. What he sees surprises him. Schematics for weapons… Strange, out of this world weapons. Contacts in Las Vegas, Metropolis… All with the same schematics… Bloody hell… Red sun radiation? Promethium piercing bullets? What is this? Vic grabs the information and stuffs it in his pockets, and then he takes whatever else he can, making sure he leaves nothing incriminating. Steel Hand was going down, one way or another. He hurries out of the office and gasps. Oh hell. Steel Hand… Gone… The handcuffs snapped like twigs. Vic hurries out of the lounge, and heads for a car, something, anything, to make his getaway in. He collapses half way out the door, his head swirling in a storm of darkness.

_**Chapter Five: Down Hill Struggle.**_

Vic jerks up, his head pounding more than ever. He's lying in a bed, his bloody wounds dressed, his face… He touches his face, and finds that the Pseudoderm still attached. "That really is your face then, huh?" A soft voice emerges from the shadows, and the bar woman emerges, dressed in a long Hub City Giants shirt and wearing large grey shorts, smiling. "I saw you stumble out of the bar, you got beat up pretty bad… I couldn't just leave you…"

"You shouldv'e done just that! You've endangered yourself and everyone you know doing this! _Argh_…" He doubles over, clutching his chest. "You're wounds… I dressed them to the best of my ability… I'm a medical student…"

"Hrgh… Why work at a place like The Ditko Lounge then? As a stripper?" Vic collapses back in the bed, breathing heavily. "Why?"

"To fund my education, stupid… Mom didn't raise no sucker. I'm near able to complete my tuition. But not as a stripper… 'Exotic dancer' is the more appropriate name."

"ToMAYtoe/ToMAHtoe. What's your name?"

"Elliot." She sits next to him, and slowly runs her hand down his face. "What happened to you to make this… happen?" She smiles.

Vic looks around, taking in the room. "Can you keep a secret?"

She laughs knowingly. "Hypocratic oath and all that. Patient doctor confidentiallity."

"Pass me my belt."

"You aren't going to do anything kinky are you?" She smiles and flicks her blonde hair over her shoulders, her full lips… Vic snaps himself out of his daze and shakes his head. "No way, Elliot. Oh and… I've noticed your accent has changed…"

"Being a big city girl, I had to learn how to say 'ain't' before I got into the business…" She grabs his belt from the chair next to him, where his shirt, coat and hat lay. "Heh. Back off." She does so and he presses the small button, and a jet of yellow gas is released. She gasps, covering her face with her arms, and then looks over her forearm to see the mask peel off. "VIC SAGE!"

"In person. Secret keeping has begun." She smiles again, putting her long finger against her lips. She slowly moves over towards him and puts her hand against his chest. "I imagined you'd be smaller… Less… Filled out…" Why is he trusting her?

"Appearances can be decieveing." She smiles and leans closer to his face, nudging the mask away from his face, and getting close, nose to nose. "What are you doing, Elli-"

"Shh."

_Vic wakes up suddenly, and feels his face._

_No mask._

Oh hell, last night really happened… Need to get up, need to, oh…

Elliot is laying next to him, her naked body pressed against his, her Giants shirt flung next to the door, his shorts laying at the end of the bed. He looks down at his wounds, and is amazed to see they've not reopened.

Wow. She is good…

No. this is all wrong. Hell. She was (not literally) in bed with Steel Hand. Claims to be a student of medicine… But… Damn damn damn. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake! This has all been a mistake… Why did he trust her?

_I shouldn't have returned to this mask._

The Question was dead, and I dragged up the remains, and thought it would work but… After the… The incident… I just can't… It's all… Oh hell, it's all screwed up! I slowly move myself out of her soft arms and grab my teashirt. The mask slowly rolls up into a ball and I pop it back into my belt, tying it round my waist to prevent my trousers falling down. I pick up my coat and slowly… Oh I am such a pig. Jesus H. I leave without saying goodbye, and hope and pray nothing else happens today.

"_He's gone." Elliot lifts herself up, smiling, her right foot slowly stroking her elegant left leg, then moving her long blonde hair to her back. She picks up her giants top and puts it over her naked body, then smiles. "Did you hear that? He's gone. You have all you want now?" _

_Steel Hand smiles and emerges from the kitchen. "That and more. You've been fantastic. For him… And for me. That drug you did him up with sure made him a lot more… malleable…" he strokes her soft cheek with his metallic hand and she smiles. _

"_Malleable? Made him a whole lot more flexible too…" She smiles widely. "Want me to help you relax, sir?" She strokes his chest with the side of her hand and he smiles._

"_No." He sticks his gloved flesh and blood hand into his long jacket, and pulls out a silver pistol, then proceeds to fire seven shots into her chest. "But Vic sure could use you now." He rummages through his pockets and takes out all the documents he had recovered from Vic's coat. Elliot coughs slightly, and blood pours from her mouth and nose. "Damn, still alive? I can't seem to kill anyone these days." He rips off her Giants shirt and fires another three shots into her torso, then dumps her on her bed. "Let's see Sage wriggle out of this one. I can imagine the headlines right now: Vic Sage Wanted for Rape and Murder." He laughs and punches her dead body a couple more times for good luck. _

"Sir… Sir…" Rodor opens the door and Vic collapses into his arms.

"Charles?"

"I made a mistake… Always… making mistakes…" He blacks out, his wounds opened once more.

"Charles! Victor… Wake up…"

"_What we got?" The man chew on the donut, crumbs falling down from his mouth._

"_Woman dead… Raped too we think, nothing solid as of yet. Coroner will get back to us ASAP But… Uht… It's quite bloody, sir…"_

"_Bastards… Lets have a look at the scene, and then we'll wait for the crime lab report, ok?"_

"_Yes Detective Milller." The uniformed officer nods, and opens the door, and Miller gags at the sight in front of him. There's blood everywhere, on the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling, and the coroners office have just packed up the victim's body. _

"_Hey, N'omi…" One of the women zipping up the body bag with the corpse inside turns at her name, and nods. _

_She looks around, and then replies. "Detective."_

"_Any ideas?" _

_Naomi looks around the room and points at a massive puddle of blood. "I'm thinking a crime of passion. The attacker started the attack near the kitchen, where that first, biggest, blood patch is. Then he… or she… got angrier and angrier, wouldn't stop shooting her (ten shots sir. This bastard was angry), and she came to rest just here." She points to the side of the bed, where the blood splatter is concentrated. "And this guy… Or gal… Realised what he… or she… had done, and picked up her body, then placed her on the bed… and pucnhed her in the stomach a couple o' times. Made sure she was deceased."_

"_Hmm. Interesting. We have witnesses identifying two people leaving the apartment. Some people are even saying they saw Vic Sage leave here… But we need some coroboration to support whatever statements we get." _

"_You said two men…"_

"_No one could…would… identify the second. Could be that guy Hesh. Who knows what our dear ex senator is up to now that his infidelity has been revealed to the press at large…"_

"The cops are crawling over my place… that Sage has screwed with me once too often, I'm telling you, 'Saad."

"You're petty troubles matter not to beings such as us. You have the resources, you deal with it. You have the assassins, you have the man power. You deal with it."

"I'm planning to, I'm planning to… In fact… I have just the man…" Steel Hand picks up a paper file and flicks through it, smiling.

"Good. We shall talk again." The screen flickers and goes blank, then silence.

Steel Hand shakes his head, grimacing. "No good bastard… Telling me what to do. Hmm." He picks up a phone with his real hand and dials a number.

"Mitch. It's me. Yeah, The Hand. Get me the 'Beast. You know which one. What? Dammit Mitch… The original. The best. Get that Russian shit down here yesterday. I have a major job for him. What major job, do you ask? Well, how about this? The murder of Vic Sage…"

To be concluded…


End file.
